The Brightest Night (7 page)

Heat blazed across Sunny’s scales. She burrowed into the sand, feeling the tiny particles drift across her talons and tail. The Obsidian Mirror caught the sunshine as if it were trying to suck all the light into itself, and the black wisps of smoke on its surface looked like small sandstorms.

“Why wouldn’t we go straight to Burn’s stronghold?” Fierceteeth’s voice demanded.

“Because she’ll have us slaughtered the moment she sees us coming,” Preyhunter said impatiently. “Burn is a ‘kill first, ask questions later’ kind of dragon.”

“It makes sense to start at the Scorpion Den,” Strongwings agreed. “We can find someone there to take a message to Burn that we want to see her.”

Sunny closed her eyes.
The Scorpion Den. That might be where my parents live.

“I thought the Scorpion Den was full of lowlifes and criminals,” said Fierceteeth.

“It is,” said Preyhunter.

It is?
thought Sunny.
Is that what my parents are?

“But they’re the kind of criminals who know how to get things done, from everything I’ve heard,” said Strongwings. “That’s exactly what we need right now. Besides, the Scorpion Den isn’t far — just over those dunes.”

Sunny sat up and narrowed her eyes against the bright glare of the sun. The NightWings were far ahead of her, but she thought she could see a dark shape against the sand off in the distance, which might be the Scorpion Den.

“All right, all right,” Fierceteeth grumbled. “Waste of time, if you ask me.”

Sunny cleared the mirror, feeling excitement prickle through her scales. She knew it was unlikely that she’d find out something about her past in the Scorpion Den, but it was still the closest she’d ever been to her parents. Even if they were criminals, she still wanted to know who they were.

Also, a detour to the Scorpion Den would give her more time to slow down the NightWings. She still hadn’t come up with any plans to stop them from telling Burn everything.

In the distance she saw the tiny black shapes lift into the sky. Cautiously she followed them. There was really nowhere to hide in the desert, unless she burrowed under the sand, so she was staying as far back as possible.

But it was hard to stop her wings from beating faster and faster as they drew closer to the Scorpion Den. Sunny could see that it was a walled city full of winding alleyways, ramshackle stone buildings, tattered canopies, and dilapidated tents in colors that had been faded by the sun over a long period of time. And it seethed with dragons: scales glittered from every shadow and venomous tails slithered around corners.

She was so preoccupied staring at the town that she had to stop herself abruptly in midair when she realized that the three NightWings had not gone inside, but were standing outside the tall gates at the single entrance. It looked as though they were arguing with the muscular SandWing guard, who stood with her wings folded back and her tail raised menacingly.

Sunny dropped quickly to the sand, hoping she hadn’t been seen. She flattened herself against the dune, even though she knew her scales were not quite the right color for camouflage.

Now that she was still, she could hear the dragons’ voices shouting.

“You have no right to stop us!” Fierceteeth roared. “Can’t you see that we’re NightWings?”

“Yeah,” answered the guard. “So read my mind. The part that says go eat your tails.”

“We have business in the Scorpion Den,” Preyhunter insisted.

“No one gets inside without a contribution to the Outclaws,” the guard said firmly.

“The
Outclaws
?” said Preyhunter. “That’s what you call yourselves? You must be joking.”

“Are you asking for treasure?” Fierceteeth demanded. “Of course we don’t have treasure! Our home was just —”

“Surely you can make an exception for us,” Strongwings interjected, cutting her off. “I mean, we’re
NightWings
.”

“And?” said the guard.

There was a pause. Sunny grinned, imagining the apoplectic fit Fierceteeth was probably having.

“We could give you a prophecy,” Preyhunter suggested after a moment.

“Hah,” the guard said, sounding moderately more interested. “That would be funny. Qibli! Tell Thorn we have three NightWings offering their pathetic services.”

“I think you mean
prophetic
services,” Fierceteeth said.

“Uh-huh,” said the guard skeptically.

There was a long silence as everyone waited. Sunny wriggled higher up on her dune, hoping for a view of the city gates, but a long slope of sand dotted with prickly spheres of cacti blocked her way.

What can
I
offer the guard to get inside the Scorpion Den?
she wondered. She glanced down at the Obsidian Mirror. It was the only thing she had — was it worth giving up her one advantage over the NightWings? On the other talon, she knew she’d be happy to have its sinister weight out of her claws. But on the third talon, she didn’t know who would end up with their claws on this potentially dangerous weapon. What might the Outclaws do with it?

Hmmm.
Moreover, even if she didn’t offer it to them, what was to stop a band of outlaws from just taking it? Sunny thought for a moment, then quickly dug a hole in the sand next to one of the cactus balls and buried the mirror. Of course there wasn’t anything here to help her distinguish one brownish rolling sand dune from the next. She’d have to cross all her claws and hope she’d be able to find it again. But a dangerous mirror nobody could find was better than a dangerous mirror floating around the Scorpion Den, surely.

She lifted her head as the guard below spoke. “All right,” he said. “Thorn wants to see you, don’t ask me why. Follow Qibli — and no funny business.”

Sunny waited as long as she could bear it, then scrambled up and started over the dune.

A SandWing was standing there, no more than three steps away, staring straight at her as if he’d been waiting for her. His side was pocked and dented with old scars, and he had six claws on each foreleg, instead of five. She had no idea where he’d come from, or how he’d snuck up on her so quickly and quietly.

“Oh!” she yelped.

“That means you, too,” he said calmly.

“M-m-me too what?” Sunny stammered.

He tilted his head and studied her curiously, registering the odd color of her scales and eyes, and no doubt noticing her venomless tail as well.

“You’re to come before the Outclaws as well. Thorn wants to know why you’re following those scumdwellers.” He jerked his head in the direction of the den and the NightWings. Sunny had never heard anyone refer to NightWings with that much disrespect before, except perhaps Tsunami or Glory.

“I’m — I’m not following anybody,” Sunny said, folding her wings back. She could hear how unconvincing she sounded.

He shrugged. “Lie to me all you want, but I wouldn’t recommend trying it with Thorn.” He flicked his tail and she flinched away. “Come.”

It was not a request. At least he wasn’t threatening to chain her up — and at least going with him would mean getting into the Scorpion Den without the problem of payment.

“Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “Take me to Thorn.”

They flew down to the city gates and the guard nodded impassively as they went past her, straight into a crooked stone alleyway with steps leading up and down. Sharp, spicy cooking smells filled the air, along with the scents of smoke and crowds of overheated dragons. The streets around them were lined with rickety stalls and tents, and voices began pressing in on Sunny.

“Crocodile stew? Roasted scorpion? Bag of crickets?”

“Bet you’d like some gold for them golden scales!”

“Stock up on brightsting cactus — you never know when you might need it!”

“Need anyone killed, little lady? Here, take my card.”

A small, flat piece of metal, inscribed with a name, was pressed into Sunny’s talons, and the SandWing who’d given it to her vanished almost immediately. Sunny blinked and glanced up at the dragon escorting her.

“Whose is it?” he asked, plucking it out of her claws. “Nah, you don’t want him. Too expensive, barely competent.” He tossed the card into another stall as they went by, and a snout poked out of a pile of carpets to growl at them.

“Ouch!” Sunny yelped as someone rushed past and stepped on her tail. She tried to sidestep a pair of quarreling dragons and got smacked in the face by a sandy wing.

These streets are so narrow … and there are so many of them…. They must accidentally scratch each other with their tails all the time.
She looked more closely at the stalls around her and realized that many of them sold the cactus that was the antidote to SandWing venom. As far as she could see, it was nearly as popular as the giant camel-hide pouches of water being sold by every other merchant, or the tiny blue dragons and shiny black spheres that also seemed to share all the tables with other merchandise.

A wooden signboard caught her eye: three dragons’ faces carved under the words wanted. Sunny twisted to try and stare at the faces as her guard hurried her past. She could have sworn one of them was Dune … and one of the others was … but surely it couldn’t be …

Her guard steered her through the tangles of dragons, keeping one wing firmly settled against her back. Other dragons jumped out of his way when they spotted him, or ducked their heads as he went by, or slipped into shadowy corners, hissing. Soon Sunny realized that the same wooden wanted sign was posted everywhere, hung from walls, pinned to tent flaps, and nailed to the stallboards. She got a chance to peer at one more closely when they paused to let a cart of gold-painted boxes clatter by.

It really does look like Morrowseer. Morrowseer, Dune, and a NightWing I’ve never seen before. But why? And who’s looking for them?

There was small print below the pictures, but Sunny didn’t get to read it before her guard hurried her on.

Nearly all the dragons she saw were SandWings, although she also spotted a couple of scarlet SkyWings and even, once, the pale blue scales of an IceWing, who must have been miserable in this heat. She also noticed a lot of war wounds: dragons with missing talons, mangled wings, clawed-up snouts, or ripped ears, many of them huddling in the spaces between the stalls, skinny and wretched.

Although she was sure the Scorpion Den was a dangerous place to live, she guessed that a lot of dragons came here to hide from the war — either before they could be pressed into service, or after they’d been so badly injured that they couldn’t bear to fight anymore.

One SandWing limped up to them and did an odd half salute to Sunny’s guard. “Going off-duty, sir.” He paused and squinted at Sunny, and she realized that he had a long scratch across one of his eyes that had also torn up part of his nose. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she was sure she would have remembered that scratch.

“Addax, quit reporting to me all the time,” the guard said. “That’s not how the Outclaws work. Also, I told you to stop calling me ‘sir.’ ”

“Yes. Right. Right.” The dragon coughed, clearly swallowing another “sir.” “Uh, who’s your guest?”

Sunny sidled closer to her escort, wishing Addax would stop staring at her. Her guard seemed to sense this; he casually spread his big wings to shield her from view.

“Just a visitor for Thorn,” he said. “Carry on.”

Addax bobbed his head and shuffled off into the crowd.

“Some of these former soldiers have a hard time breaking their military habits,” the big SandWing said to her. “But Addax is harmless, don’t worry.”

Sunny twisted to look back and saw that the limping SandWing had stopped in the shade of a stall that seemed to be selling poisons. His black eyes stared through her, and even when she ducked behind her guard’s wings again and after they’d crossed several more alleys, she still felt a prickling, creeping feeling along her spine, as if his gaze were following her.

They wound their way toward the center of the city, stooping under torn canopies and tripping over uneven cobblestones. Sunny could smell something new up ahead, like exploded fruit, and she caught a glimpse of dark green through the gaps ahead of her, incongruous against the sand-colored buildings, faded orange tents, and red or black brick walls.

A dragonet suddenly stumbled in front of Sunny, holding out its front claws.

“Hungry!” he bleated.

His pale yellow scales were slathered with dirt, and he was tiny, with bony ribs sticking out along his chest. His black eyes caught Sunny, and she stared down at him helplessly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t have anything.”

The dragon beside her leaned forward and caught the dragonet before he could run off again, casually pinning the little one’s tail to the ground with one talon.

“Don’t hurt him!” Sunny cried, but the guard didn’t even look at her.

“Where’s your guardian, squirt?” he asked the dragonet.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” cried a female SandWing, hurrying out of a nearby alley. “I would never have let him bother you, sir. Please forgive us.” She grabbed the dragonet and clutched him to her. He drooped, no energy left to wriggle away.